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A spectacular new novel that takes you on an adventure never thought possible before. Relive one of the most incredible adventures ever experienced by two of the greatest novelists of all time as they struggle to find the Seal of the Third Golden Eagle.

Pushed on an adventure they dared not refuse by Napoleon Bonaparte and the Pope, Jules Verne and Alexander Dumas will go places they never could have imagined in their writing.

But worse, they will be pursued by a man bent on exacting revenge for the loss of his wife and children: Captain Nemo.

CHAPTER IVMR. CUSS INTERVIEWS THE STRANGERI have told the circumstances of the stranger's arrival in Ipingwith a certain fulness of detail, in order that the curiousimpression he created may be understood by the reader. Butexcepting two odd incidents, the circumstances of his stay untilthe extraordinary day of the club festival may be passed over verycursorily. There were a number of skirmishes with Mrs. Hall onmatters of domestic discipline, but in every case until late April,when the first signs of penury began, he over-rode her by the easyexpedient of an extra payment. Hall did not like him, and wheneverhe dared he talked of the advisability of getting rid of him; buthe showed his dislike chiefly by concealing it ostentatiously, andavoiding his visitor as much as possible. "Wait till the summer,"said Mrs. Hall sagely, "when the artisks are beginning to come.Then we'll see. He may be a bit overbearing, but bills settledpunctual is bills settled punctual, whatever you'd like to say."The stranger did not go to church, and indeed made no differencebetween Sunday and the irreligious days, even in costume. Heworked, as Mrs. Hall thought, very fitfully. Some days he wouldcome down early and be continuously busy. On others he would riselate, pace his room, fretting audibly for hours together, smoke,sleep in the armchair by the fire. Communication with the worldbeyond the village he had none. His temper continued veryuncertain; for the most part his manner was that of a man sufferingunder almost unendurable provocation, and once or twice things weresnapped, torn, crushed, or broken in spasmodic gusts of violence.He seemed under a chronic irritation of the greatest intensity. Hishabit of talking to himself in a low voice grew steadily upon him,but though Mrs. Hall listened conscientiously she could makeneither head nor tail of what she heard.He rarely went abroad by daylight, but at twilight he would go outmuffled up invisibly, whether the weather were cold or not, and hechose the loneliest paths and those most overshadowed by trees andbanks. His goggling spectacles and ghastly bandaged face under thepenthouse of his hat, came with a disagreeable suddenness out ofthe darkness upon one or two home-going labourers, and TeddyHenfrey, tumbling out of the "Scarlet Coat" one night, at half-pastnine, was scared shamefully by the stranger's skull-like head (hewas walking hat in hand) lit by the sudden light of the opened inndoor. Such children as saw him at nightfall dreamt of bogies, andit seemed doubtful whether he disliked boys more than they dislikedhim, or the reverse; but there was certainly a vivid enough dislikeon either side.It was inevitable that a person of so remarkable an appearance andbearing should form a frequent topic in such a village as Iping.Opinion was greatly divided about his occupation. Mrs. Hall wassensitive on the point. When questioned, she explained verycarefully that he was an "experimental investigator," goinggingerly over the syllables as one who dreads pitfalls. When askedwhat an experimental investigator was, she would say with a touchof superiority that most educated people knew such things as that,and would thus explain that he "discovered things." Her visitor hadhad an accident, she said, which temporarily discoloured his faceand hands, and being of a sensitive disposition, he was averse toany public notice of the fact.Out of her hearing there was a view largely entertained that he wasa criminal trying to escape from justice by wrapping himself up soas to conceal himself altogether from the eye of the police. Thisidea sprang from the brain of Mr. Teddy Henfrey. No crime of anymagnitude dating from the middle or end of February was known tohave occurred. Elaborated in the imagination of Mr. Gould, theprobationary assistant in the National School, this theory took theform that the stranger was an Anarchist in disguise, preparingexplosives, and he resolved to undertake such detective operationsas his time permitted. These consisted for the most part in lookingvery hard at the stranger whenever they met, or in asking peoplewho had never seen the stranger, leading questions about him. Buthe detected nothing.Another school of opinion followed Mr. Fearenside, and eitheraccepted the piebald view or some modification of it; as, forinstance, Silas Durgan, who was heard to assert that "if he choosesto show enself at fairs he'd make his fortune in no time," andbeing a bit of a theologian, compared the stranger to the man withthe one talent. Yet another view explained the entire matter byregarding the stranger as a harmless lunatic. That had theadvantage of accounting for everything straight away.Between these main groups there were waverers and compromisers.Sussex folk have few superstitions, and it was only after theevents of early April that the thought of the supernatural wasfirst whispered in the village. Even then it was only creditedamong the women folk.But whatever they thought of him, people in Iping, on the whole,agreed in disliking him. His irritability, though it might havebeen comprehensible to an urban brain-worker, was an amazing thingto these quiet Sussex villagers. The frantic gesticulations theysurprised now and then, the headlong pace after nightfall thatswept him upon them round quiet corners, the inhuman bludgeoningof all tentative advances of curiosity, the taste for twilightthat led to the closing of doors, the pulling down of blinds,the extinction of candles and lamps--who could agree with suchgoings on? They drew aside as he passed down the village, and whenhe had gone by, young humourists would up with coat-collars anddown with hat-brims, and go pacing nervously after him in imitationof his occult bearing. There was a song popular at that time called"The Bogey Man". Miss Statchell sang it at the schoolroom concert(in aid of the church lamps), and thereafter whenever one or two ofthe villagers were gathered together and the stranger appeared, abar or so of this tune, more or less sharp or flat, was whistled inthe midst of them. Also belated little children would call "BogeyMan!" after him, and make off tremulously elated.Cuss, the general practitioner, was devoured by curiosity. Thebandages excited his professional interest, the report of thethousand and one bottles aroused his jealous regard. All throughApril and May he coveted an opportunity of talking to the stranger,and at last, towards Whitsuntide, he could stand it no longer, buthit upon the subscription-list for a village nurse as an excuse. Hewas surprised to find that Mr. Hall did not know his guest's name."He give a name," said Mrs. Hall--an assertion which was quiteunfounded--"but I didn't rightly hear it." She thought it seemedso silly not to know the man's name.